Tears of a Clown
by Sarah3
Summary: Short-ish Moulin Rouge fic. Toulouse Lautrec's thoughts as he sits on the roof immediately after the Elephant Love Medley.


Title

Title: Tears of a Clown  
Author: Sarah ([sfrench@eisa.net.au][1])  
Part: 1/1  
Rating: PG   
Disclaimer: _Moulin Rouge _is Baz's masterpiece, not mine! Although I don't think that Toulouse Lautrec belongs to him either :-) This fic was also kind of inspired by the _I Pagliacci _references in this scene.  
Archive: My site, Red Windmill, Fanfiction.net, anyone who wants it :-)  
Fandom: Moulin Rouge  
Genre: Angst/Drama  
Feedback: Extremely welcome!  
Summary: Short-ish _Moulin Rouge_ fic. Toulouse Lautrec's thoughts as he sits on the roof immediately after the Elephant Love Medley.  
Author's notes: This is an interpretation of Toulouse's role in this scene. It came about in one of my 'Damn this movie is clever' moments. *g* You don't have to agree with my take on it, (and yes, I do think that it is implied that Toulouse was in love with Satine, but I know a lot of people don't agree with me on that one! ;-) but one of my favourite things about this movie is the symbolism that is throughout it, and I think that this scene is a perfect example of that. And anyway, I feel for Toulouse here! 

_"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return."_

The words echo in my mind, haunting me, mocking me. Oh, it may have taken Christian's genius to distil emotion into poetry, but I have always understood the sentiment. Understood it? I ache for it. It is my inspiration, my reason for living... my torment.

I gaze across the rooftops. Light spills across the night from Satine's open window, but it does not reach my hiding spot. Here, it remains dark... dark and lonely, and I make no attempt to disguise the tear that slides slowly down my cheek. Here my mask may slip, the truth may surface. Here the heartache may finally be acknowledged, if only to myself. How apt that I look on from high above the darkened streets, alone, aloof, apart- doomed to dream from afar forever.

Just to love. Just to love and be loved in return. How I long to find such a love, to find a place where I can rest in the certainty that I am cherished. How I long to share all that is unique and beautiful inside me. For someone to acknowledge that beneath the crippled body there exists a soul that overflows with warmth, with art, with poetry. The Parisian brothels, the absinthe -none of it has been enough to extinguish the flame that burns within me. Yet it seems that this world has no place for such idle wishes. The clown must never shed a tear. The show must go on, even if the only role afforded to me is that of the jester.

Even from this distance, I can sense the joy that fills Christian's heart. His world must seem filled with poetry and music right now, and I lean forward slightly, trying to capture some of the warmth of requited love, if only vicariously. Satine and Christian form a perfect silhouette in the window, and I watch as he pulls her closer, her arms encircling his waist, their lips meeting in warm embrace, giving in to passion, to love, creating a world where nothing exists but the two of them. I turn away as another tear begins its lonely journey.

Satine. Oh, Christian, the reason that I understand what you must feel is that I, too, know what it is to love Satine. I know it with every breath, every beat of my heart. I know how the warmth of her smile fills your heart, how the sound of her voice stills your breathing in an instant. You would perhaps be surprised if I were to be so frank as to share my unspoken dreams with you. Perhaps you would have difficulty envisaging the depth of feeling that lies hidden beneath, perhaps I have played the role of the clown too well. But to know the warmth of Satine's love in return? That is something that I long ago consigned to the realm of impossible dreams. So I hide my heartache beneath so many layers of bravado that I scarcely know myself who I am anymore.

Music dances on the night air, and I pick up the refrain, adding my own sad harmony. _"How wonderful life is now you're in the world."_

   [1]: mailto:sfrench@eisa.net.au



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